Holocaust deniers

You know about the Holocaust deniers right? I just don't understand those douchebags -- on a couple levels really.

The first one's obvious. They deny fact that is clearly demonstrable.

The second one's more subtle though. We already know that they're a bunch of anti-Semites, but if you think about it, even from their perspective, their stance doesn't really make sense. I mean wouldn't true Jew-haters be proud of the Holocaust? They wouldn't be denying it. They'd be bragging about it:

"Holocaust? Don't really know what that word means but I do know that Adolf and da boys went all apeshit on dem kikes and almost got the entire job done!"

"Just six million bagel dogs you say? Hell's bells, in Poland alone maybe!"

Drinking Blood

I grew up Catholic so am used to injesting a dude's blood. I cut my finger pretty bad the other night while making fresh salsa and just said: "So what? It's all red anyway," and kept going. Saved money by not using a band-aid too. Eventually that thing clotted up quite nicely.

Sheet management.

I have the unenviable job of "tucking" the kids in many nights -- and for those of you who have never had to do it, I can tell you that it's not as easy as it sounds.

You see, young kids have absolutely no skills with respect to sheet management during slumber. In other words, while they may be able to keep the blanket up to their chin the whole night, by the time the morning comes, the sheet(s) have invariably been pushed to the very bottom of the bed -- under the covers.

So, assuming the little SOBs didn't make their bed that day (which is a pretty safe bet) by the time they return to bed that night, well, we got a problem -- and guess who's expected to solve it?

No worries though, I'm in the process of inventing a contraption that uses a series of strings and wires to prevent the sheets from being pushed down. Works like a charm too. Only bug in the system so far is that we've had a few near strangulations. I'm still working on it though. I'll keep you posted.

Highlights Magazine!

So I'm at the pediatric dentist's office yesterday with my kids right? Hey, look over there. Highlights Magazine! Cool. It's been so many years since I've read that thing. And now I'm thinking: You know what? Now that I'm an adult, I just might feel very differently about things. So I head over to the rack, open the magazine, find my favorite feature. Nope. Still want to beat the living crap out of Gallant.

Dad, there's a black man outside!

Yesterday I had a very uncomfortable experience. I hope it never happens to you.

So I'm in my home office working nicely. The wife and three of the four kids are out of the house. Emily, the five year-old, is playing on the computer in the front room.

I hear her yell out to me: "Dad, there's a black man outside!"

Now as you may know, kids will make lots of loud noises and yell out odd things from time to time. So I guess frankly although I heard her yell something, I wasn't really listening. It didn't sound urgent anyway, so I just kept working.

Again, this time much louder: "DAD, THERE'S A BLACK MAN OUTSIDE!" Nothing ominous in the voice, just simply stating a fact as she saw it.

OK, so now I'm walking towards the front room and my brain's processing the whole thing. There is clearly a man at the front door, probably black, and Emily has seen him through the front window. (I thought I heard the doorbell ring?) I look out the peep hole. Yep, just what I thought. FedEx guy. African American FedEx guy with a package.

You getting the picture yet? My mind started to race. Sizing up the situation, I had to figure there was about a 90-95% chance that the young man standing outside that front had heard every one of Emily's words. The poor guy's got to be thinking that he's about to deliver a package to a white-trash, hillbilly, racist family, right? What do I do?!

I know, I'll just address it head-on. Something like, "You know, you must have heard her -- my daughter. I don't know why she felt the need to specify to me that you were a "black" man. I mean, we like black people -- we have tons of black friends, hundreds! Oh, you know what? I do let her watch The Family Guy and The Cleveland Show from time to time. I bet that's where she picked it up!" No good. Abort plan. It will never work.

In a split second I made the decision. I would just open the door, accept the package and just pretend the whole thing never happened.

So that's what I did, but with an embarrassing twist. As I accepted the package, chatted with the fellow, signed his electronic pad, I guess I must have felt the need somehow to let him know that I liked him a lot. No need to worry about Dan Green being a racist! I was super nice. I smiled. My eyes were incredibly friendly, my voice warm and charming.

As I said goodbye and closed the door it hit me that the poor guy must have thought I was coming on to him. Boy, I hope I never have to experience anything like that again.

Thinking Via the Box

Are you a creative trailblazer? If so, you must always remember to: "Think {Insert any random preposition here} the box."

You say, "Wait Dan, please. I have a list here of about 70 different prepositions I got off the internet, and a lot of them don't really work. For example, I can't think 'amid' the box."

And of course you really can (and should). You simply need to have the ability to think per the box my friend.

Demonologist

I don't really believe in the supernatural -- especially things like ghosts, devils and the like. The other day I read about some dude who claimed to be a demonologist. (That was his line of work I guess.)

I say that some nouns ought not be allowed to add the -ologist suffix -- and "demon" is one.

On a somewhat related note (and I guess you're going to say that it makes me a bit of a hypocrite), I am actually a licensed Leprechaunologist, and my (late) uncle Rick was a Bogeymanologist -- until the Bogeyman got rather annoyed over it all.